


The Me You See

by ironysupplement



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen, One Shot, Swearing, WAFF, badge-wearing E.T., day in the life, reference to past Max/Cam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironysupplement/pseuds/ironysupplement
Summary: On Saturday, Jenna Cameron learned that her partner on the sheriff's force was an alien masquerading as a human. Sothatwas a surprise.Monday morning is supposed to be an ordinary workday.Fortunately, two days isplentyof time to process one’s feelings of betrayal and repair a working relationship that’s been somewhat altered by the discovery that your partner has alien superpowers, so there’s no reason for things to get awkward.Right?
Relationships: Max Evans & Jenna Cameron
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Me You See

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a '90's song, as is Right And Proper for this fandom; in this case one by Grey Eye Glances.
> 
> Suggested soundtrack: "Ordinary Town", Dave Carter & Tracy Grammer
> 
> [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1skkjmVs5QY1lCGiq3uxEL) | [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z87Gdr0VQT0) | [Pandora](https://www.pandora.com/artist/dave-carter-and-tracy-grammer/drum-hat-buddha/ordinary-town/TRjhxlp4jl4Xh9X?part=ug-desktop&corr=1854961611)  
> ---|---|---  
>   
> * * *
> 
> 


_Across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes..._

The intelligence greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own lumbers towards Jenna's squad car. It opens its terrible mandibles and rasps its dread message in its awful chthonic voice: "ALMOND MILK."

Jenna blinks. "What?"

"I said," says the unfathomable alien other, patiently, "that they were out of soy milk, so I got you almond."

"Yeah, great. Thanks."

Max Evans slides into the passenger seat opposite her and balances the tray of drinks on his knees while fastening his seat belt. Jenna pulls the squad car into traffic, and Max slips her drink into the front cupholder and hands her the paper bag with her muffin. It's all smooth, practiced, two partners working together like a well-oiled machine. They've been partners on the force for two years, fuck buddies for a little less than that, and she knows him about as well as one person can know another.

She learned he was an alien two days ago.

"Evans, why do you buy coffee?"

"What?" He sounds baffled. Jenna jerks her thumb to indicate the medium drip coffee she knows, even without looking, is in the cup holder next to her quad latte.

"The _coffee,_ Evans. You never _drink_ the coffee. Yet you _buy_ the coffee, day after day after fucking day. ¿Por que?"

Now she does glance over, in time to see Evans tense his shoulders and set his jaw a bit in a way she has long since associated with her pulling a thread that he would strongly prefer not be pulled.

"Cam, why do you care about my coffee?"

"I don't. I just wonder why a grown-ass man is choosing to perform this ritual theater piece of pretending to drink coffee. Is it for my benefit? Because I didn't actually care before, and now I _super_ don't care."

She lets a couple blocks go by. "Is it an alien thing?"

"Can we please not discuss this _in the squad car?!_ I am at _work,_ Cameron."

They're pulling up to their first stop. Jenna shifts the car to park with a bit more force than is really necessary and looks over to her partner.

"For god's sake, Evans, quit buying coffee and not drinking it. I know how much you make. And it's a waste of good coffee."

Evans' face is still closed off and he doesn't say anything, but after a few seconds he gives a nearly imperceptible nod.

* * *

The morning continues normally, which is downright surreal. Their first stop is a B&E on Main (Jenna asks questions; Evans, who was not born on Earth, takes notes and asks the occasional clarifying question) and then a domestic on Eighth (Evans, who only looks human, smiles disarmingly to calm down the victim and talks her into a temporary protective order). The desert sun climbs and bleaches the sky. Evans, who is less closely related to her than she is to a slime mold, idly fans his face with his hat.

At no time does Jenna stop in the middle of talking to citizens and say, "By the way, a being from beyond the stars is standing right next to you in a deputy's uniform. Surprised me too."

But it's a near thing.

* * *

Dispatch squawks at them around two with a report of a break-in at the power substation outside town. It's Evans' turn to drive, and they fall silent as they reach the highway. He finally breaks the silence as they reach city limits.

"Cam, is something the matter? You've been acting weird all morning."

"Why would anything be the matter," mutters Jenna. "I found out you're an alien two days ago, and now you want everything to go back to normal?"

"This _is_ normal. _My_ normal, Cam; I don't have a choice in how I live my life. And I already told you I don't want to discuss this at work."

"Yeah? I didn't want to have my life turned upside down and then have to go back to work like nothing happened, yet here we are."

"I _did_ mean it when I said I didn't enjoy lying and I didn't mean to hurt you, and I _am_ sorry I've gotten you involved in weird shit."

"But you'd do it again."

"Yes, absolutely!" He thumps a hand against the steering wheel. "You _do_ remember what I'm facing if I'm caught? Me and my brother and sister?"

"You know what the hardest, weirdest part of this whole thing is, Evans? I had to learn, at the same time, that aliens are real _and that I'd fucked one._ Without any kind of warning, I've become the kind of person who fucks aliens. _You_ did that to me."

"Charming." Evans rolls his eyes. "I really don't know what you're looking for from me, Cam. If it makes you feel any better, then I'm sorry for that too--but if you're saying I should have disclosed, then you and I have _very_ different ideas about how to live undercover."

Evans' phone alerts them to the upcoming exit. He guides the squad car off the highway and onto several increasingly badly paved roads, finally ending at an electric gate at the power substation. She can hear the low crackling of the lines overhead.

There's no one around.

"Can't you mind-whammy the gate?"

Evans shoots her a look of exasperation. "Not from here, and I don't use my powers unless I have to. Please don't ask again."

"I'm not asking to annoy you," says Jenna, annoyed that he is annoyed.

"Then why _are_ you asking, Cam?"

"We're _partners,_ dipshit. I'm supposed to be able to trust you with my life. I _have_ trusted you with my life. I'd like a better idea of your abilities, so I know what I have to work with."

 _"No,"_ he says, voice rising, "You don't _get to decide_ when I should--"

The radio squawks and Jenna fumbles for it, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as she realizes all at once why he hadn't wanted to discuss his powers at work. _Damn,_ she thinks, as she tries to rally her thoughts, but she only stammers into the radio until Evans grabs it from her hand and takes over, unruffled and perfectly professional. She's impressed at his composure until she realizes that he's simply had more practice at switching between identities, and then she's appalled when she realizes that this has been his entire life. 

Evans slides the radio back into its cradle and backs the squad car up a bit, then turns it onto a narrow track that barely qualifies as a road.

"Where are we--ow!--going?" she asks, in between bumps.

"The building around back, where the security camera was shot out and where someone called in a report of smoke. Weren't you listening?" His jaw is set in that mulish line again, but then he sighs and suddenly just looks tired. "Look, Cam, I know this must be hard, but I really need you to get past it now. I need you _here_."

They pull up to a single-wide mobile home that must serve as a makeshift office, cheap siding already discoloring under the pitiless desert sun. Its single door is ajar. Jenna and Evans exchange a look; that's never a good sign. Evans parks the car. They check their weapons and exit the car, covering each other, ready for a situation that could change at any moment.

"Smell that?" mutters Evans, and she nods. The acrid smoke still hangs around the mobile home.

"Smells electrical," she adds. Then she sees it.

"Evans," she says, low and urgent. "There's a downed line."

He turns around and whistles low. "Not good," he agrees.

The downed line is live. She can see it crackling; can see the fires it's set.

"Give me the keys. Let's get the hell out of here and call it in," says Jenna. She knows what electricity can do; knows it's only the dryness of the desert soil that's keeping her from being dead right now. The eerie crackling quiet of the place just unnerves her further.

Evans is reaching for the keys when a scream splits the air. They freeze, already looking at each other, already realizing what it must mean.

"Oh my god, it came from in there," says Jenna, jerking her thumb to the thicket of transformers behind the mobile office. "First ambulance, then fire, then dispatch. Let's _go._ " But Evans is rooted to the spot.

It's so unlike him that for a second she just tugs at him, which is silly--she's strong but he is too, and bigger besides. "Evans!"

"It'd take too long," he says, and jerks her back around to him. She meets his eyes and they're desperate but steady, and pleading with her for something. "They're dead if they have to wait for rescue, Cam."

"Evans, you can't seriously--"

"I'll be _fine._ " He raises an eyebrow in what she gathers is supposed to be a meaningful gesture, but all at once she's had enough of stupid heroics and men trained by Westerns to not say anything useful directly.

"Evans, you _idiot--_ "

"If anything goes wrong," he says, "call Michael or Isobel. _No doctors._ " He's quickly stripping the metal bits from his uniform--badge, nametag, belt.

Jenna grabs his arm as he starts to pull away, but he shakes her off. 

"Call it in!" he yells over his shoulder. "No doctors!"

And then he's out of reach and sprinting towards the downed line. Jenna can't help but stare. The line is throwing sparks and she can see arcs shooting between the equipment. She even sees an arc or two hit him, enough to kill thousands of times over, but he keeps going. He vanishes into the substation and, as if a spell is broken, she remembers her job.

Once she's done calling the calvary, she resumes her watch. What feels like hours but is probably only minutes crawls by before she sees movement in the thick of the transformers--Evans, with someone on his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He's fine. Jenna feels her knees go and braces herself against the car for a moment, and then she's off pelting towards him.

Evans sees her approach and looks suddenly panicked. "Wait, Cam, no! Stand down!"

Something about his tone makes her pull up short of him. He slides to his knees and slams a hand on the ground. She sees it glow red for a second while Evans contorts his face in pain, and then he looks up at her. Behind his stubble and his ever-present desert tan he looks gray.

"Come on, help me with him," he says. Jenna glances at the spot where Evans had touched the ground and isn't surprised to see a lightning fractal in the dirt. She supposes he must have needed to ground himself.

Their rescuee is alive but unconscious. They've just rolled him into the recovery position when they hear an ambulance siren.

"What do you want to tell them?" she asks, quietly. But as she looks at her partner she rocks back on her heels a bit at the sight of him--now clammy with sweat and visibly shaking, in addition to his waxy pallor. "Evans? You'd better go sit in the squad car if you don't want the ambulance to take you too. Need help?"

He starts to protest, then drops his head in resignation and exhaustion. "A bit, yeah."

She hauls him to his feet and half-helps, half-carries him back to the passenger side of the car. 

To her surprise, he's no sooner seated than he dives for his now-cold coffee, rips the lid off, and dumps out the contents on the ground.

"Is anyone coming?" 

"No," says Jenna, curious now.

"Great." Evans reaches in the back seat for his war bag, opens it, and pulls out a small bottle of _nail polish remover,_ of all things. He quickly and smoothly unscrews it and dumps the contents into his now-empty coffee cup.

Then, without any kind of ceremony, he knocks it back like a glass of water.

"...am I going to regret asking?"

"That kind of thing always gives me a headache," says Evans, by way of explanation.

"Is this an..." She catches his warning look. "Is this an a-thing?"

He nods. "It's a pain-killer. The usual ones don't work on me."

They are quiet a moment while Evans catches his breath. The nail polish remover seems to be doing the trick; his complexion improves and he stops shaking.

"Max," says Jenna, cautiously.

He looks over at her, still tired but fully present.

"This was kind of why I asked about your abilities, earlier." She keeps her tone studied and neutral, but he tenses anyway. _Men,_ she thinks. "I'm not collecting shit to sell to the tabloids. You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable sharing. But I'd like to know what I can, so I can look out for you. If I'd known more about your powers twenty minutes ago, you could have saved a couple of seconds. One day that might make a difference."

A ghost of a smile flits around his stubble. "Yeah, okay. That's fair."

She extends a hand. "Partners?"

He takes it and meets her gaze. "Partners."

* * *

The drive back to the station is silent. She pulls up in front but doesn't park, and Evans glances over at her.

"Start on your report and rest up," she says. "I'll back your play, whatever it is. I'll get us some food."

He exits the car--much steadier on his feet, she sees--then pauses just before closing the door.

"Thanks, Jenna."

He vanishes into the cool dark of the station as she pulls away.

* * *

She comes back half an hour later with a couple of shopping bags. Evans is at his desk, typing up their report on the day's adventure. She hands him a sandwich and a soda from one of the bags. He grabs it and rips it open, says something that might be "You're amazing" around a mouthful of sandwich.

Jenna reads the report while he wolfs down his belated lunch. "This is... creative."

Then, remembering the second shopping bag still in her hand, she drops it on his desk. "For you." He opens the bag, glances in, and raises an eyebrow at her in silent question.

"It was on clearance at the drugstore. You owe me $5."

Max picks up one of the bottles and pulls a face. "Oh, good. The _scented_ kind is _extra_ -yummy."

"Yeah, you're welcome, asshole."

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon for Max buying coffee but not drinking it (established in canon but not explained) is that he doesn't like the taste and thinks caffeine interacts badly with his powers, but does like the other tactile and sensual aspects of a cup of coffee (something warm to wrap his hands around, something to hold and carry around) and--whether or not he's consciously able to articulate this--especially likes that it helps him feel normal and helps him project an image of normalcy.


End file.
